„Well." George said, looking from the toilet seat to the kitchen sink. „I suppose it has its advantages. If you suffer from a gastrointestinal infection, you could cook some porridge and chamomile tea without ever leaving the loo."

„You are taking it then?"

„No!" Mitchell said. „He is most definitely not!"

George frowned. „Shouldn't that be my decision?"

„You are not going to rent that pit."

„It is not as if I had may flat-offers. It is… err… I suppose with a little paint…"

„No." Mitchell said again. „No way."

„I can't sleep on your couch forever."

„Of course you can't. I miss my telly! And you make that sick… thing. Those movements."

The estate agent cast George an interested look, and he rolled his eyes.

„Yoga. It is called yoga, Mitchell."

„You make sounds."

„I am singing a mantra."

„It's getting on my nerves."

„You are smoking in the flat."

„It is my bloody flat! I can smoke everywhere I like!"

„It stinks. Talking of which. I am tired of you never cleaning the bathroom."

„I am not even using the bathroom!"

George burst out laughing.

„Much. I am not using the bathroom much. Not blocking it for hours like you, trying different ways to brush my hair in front of the mirror."

„Only because you have no…" George stopped.

„I am sorry to interrupt your lover's quarrel, but are you going to take the flat or no?"

„No!" Mitchell glared at his friend.

George sighed. „No, I am not. Thank you for being so kind as to show us around."

The woman nodded.

„You know, if you would be interested in something completely different, a house, I may have just the thing for you."

„A house?" George echoed.

„Three bedrooms, a kitchen, a sitting-room, a bathroom, an attic. A lot of space for your yoga, Mr. Sands."

„Thank you, but I don't think I could afford that."

„I thought, you and your… friend… would like some more space? We have rented to the likes of you before."

„I don't think you have." Mitchell muttered.

„We are in no way prejudiced. Best tenants we have had so far, calm, a perfect sense for interior design, nice people, really. And the house I have in mind, you would be surprised, the rent is quite cheap. The owner just wants someone fitting for his house. And he wants it off the market quickly. You want to have a look? It is in Totterdown, a nice and quiet area. A lot of families live there. I have got the keys on me, we could go now."

„Mitchell?" George looked at him with puppy dogs.

He shrugged. „You would make a fine ghost in the attic, with your weird mantra-singing."

„Ghost? Haha. You have funny ideas, Mr. Mitchell." The woman laughed nervously. She scribbled something on a sheet of paper and handed it to George.

„That is the address. Shall we meet there in… let's say… half an hour?"

„Fine."

„It is pink." Mitchell lowered his sunglasses to look at the offensive house. It sat at the corner of the street, plaster fell off the walls and the weathered windows looked empty. No, wait. There was someone moving on the upper floor. The estate agent was obviously desperate to rent that thing if they were showing it to two parties at the same time.

„So?"

„Pink. George. Pink!"

„Your point being?"

Mitchell sighed and followed George to the house. The door stood ajar, and George eagerly stepped in, craning his neck.

„Look, how lovely! The tiles are black and white. That is so nostalgic! And a wooden floor in the sitting room!"

He vanished round the corner. Mitchell sighed again.

It took the length of a cigarette until George reappeared.

„Where are you? I thought you wanted to see the house!"

„I cannot enter. I have to be invited in."

„Oh." George stepped back. „I didn't know that. Well then, I invite you in."

„By the ownership."

„Oh." George said again.

„There you are." The estate agent came to meet them. „Lovely neighbourhood, isn't it?"

She disappeared into the house again, and Mitchell rolled his eyes at George.

„Make her invite me in!"

„How?"

„You have an IQ of 156. I am sure you can think of something!"

George cursed under his breath and made to follow the woman, telling her something of Mitchell being old-fashioned until she asked him in. As soon as Mitchell had entered and followed the estate agent into the living room, George vanished again.

Mitchell looked around. There was a shabby leather sofa, a red chair, an elderly lamp and a bench with green cushions that reminded him of a hotel room in Wales he had rented in 1957. He hadn't liked it at all. Luckily there had been a lot of distractions.

„It comes furnished."

„I see."

„The wallpaper is retro."

„No, it's not. It is just decades old."

„I suppose we could talk to the owner and see if he would be willing to think his financial expectations over. I am fed up with showing this place to people who are not going to rent it."

„Why haven't you found anyone yet?"

She shrugged. „You will find out anyway, so I can as well tell you. The owner's fiancée died here. Fell down the stairs and broke her neck. See the cracked tile? That was where she hit the floor and broke her skull. People get superstitious once they hear something like that. Some even thought the house was haunted!"

„Haunted?"

„Noises in empty rooms, things like that. Stupid, really."

He looked around again. Haunted, huh? By rubbish, probably.

„Are you still interested? Or shall we just leave?"

„I don't know. Totterdown isn't really my first choice for a place to live. And that house is not in good shape."

„Have you seen the kitchen? It is gorgeous!" George came sliding into the living room, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling. „Have you been upstairs? There a three bed-rooms! And the curtains, Mitchell, the curtains!"

„So you are interested? You take it?"

„Yes!" George cried and flung his arms around Mitchell. „Please?"

„Err. George?"

The werewolf boxed him in the ribs and laughed. „That place is perfect, don't you see?"

„No. I don't."

„Because you haven't even looked at it. Come, I'll show you the kitchen. Look at he stove! And the shelves with all those mugs, lovely!"

„You have seen the cracked tile, George?"

„Come on! It's an old house. I don't mind at all!"

„If you would want to sign the contract today, I am sure I could persuade the owner to lower the rent a little."

The estate agent smiled and held out a pen.

Mitchell shrugged, took the pen and signed the contract. Hell. Why not? He had lived with several people over the years, and some of them had been worse than any werewolf ever could turn out to be.

It was ridiculously early in the morning, and Mitchell, still half asleep, struggled with the kettle and coffee. God, he missed Italy. Delicious coffee at every day- or night-time, delicious food and delicious blood. He licked his lips at the memory and jerked back when he poured boiling water over his fingers.

„Ow! Fuck!"

He rushed to the tap and put his burnt hand under the cold water, but the plumbing was now jostling into life and creaked and ached.

George would wake up and complain. The plumbing drove George crazy, but all the other strange noises in the house didn't help either in calming the werewolf down. Moreover he had started accusing Mitchell of playing pranks on him. Disorganising the alphabetical order of his books, putting a red tank top in his white laundry so that he ended up having to wear pink boxers and singlets. Mitchell hadn't done anything he was accused of but loved every single deed. At least until George had had his revenge and had mixed Mitchell's styling gel with his tooth paste and switched covers of all his CD's and DVDs.

Mitchell cursed again and inspected his injured fingers that were hurting like hell. Vampire skin was more sensitive to burns, and his fingers had turned an angry red with his skin already blistering. Normally that wouldn't be a problem. He would just feed on blood and would have healed. But now it would take weeks at least. His body could not produce blood of its own, it had difficulty healing wounds and regenerating tissue.

He searched through the first aid kit until he found a salve to put on the injury and a bandage that he wrapped around his hand. The sudden feeling of being watched made his hairs stand on end and he turned, half expecting to see George. But the kitchen was empty. He frowned, not sure wether he heard something on the stairs, but no, that was an old house and a wooden staircase. The talk about living in a haunted house was eventually getting to him, he reckoned. He wasn't afraid of ghosts, although he had met terrifying ones that sent a chill down his spine and made his heart jump as if it wanted to flee his body. Those had been the ghosts of people he had killed, hissing and spitting and cursing him. But that hadn't happened too often, and he was grateful for it. Mostly ghosts were just confused afterimages that went into the light as soon as their door opened. Gilbert was an exception, of course. But Gilbert always had been a little different.

Downing his still hot coffee, Mitchell put on his coat, pocketed his sunglasses and keys and left for his nightshift.

He just had started mopping the floor when Lauren was taking a patient in a wheelchair to the lift. He hadn't seen her in a while.

„Lauren!"

She briefly looked up and squeezed the wheelchair into the already crammed lift.

Was she avoiding him? Damn. Doctor Simmons must have given her a hard time after she had covered up Mitchell's absence some weeks ago. He had to apologise.

He thought of the meeting at the funeral parlour, and Herrick's sick idea of taking over Bristol. England. The world? Of a vampire reign. Surely the Old Ones would put an end to that. Mitchell had met one of them some time ago, when he was roaming Paris like an all-consuming force of nature, like a nightmare come true, he had enjoyed himself far too much, hadn't cared about covering up his killings, had felt like the mightiest being – until he had met Wyndam. He hadn't understood at first, what a powerful creature he was facing, had laughed in his face. Christ, have you got any idea who you are trying to stop? I am Big Bad John Mitchell, man! Wyndam had him down on the cobblestones in a second, a heavy foot on his back, his face in the dirt, his body hurting and not able to move, and when the slender man had lifted his foot it had been only to hurl Mitchell against the next wall that his skull had banged against with a sickening crack. Wyndam had beaten manners into him and the sheer fright of ever overstepping boundaries again. The Old One had enjoyed that, he was a sick, cruel bastard that he wished he would never ever have to meet again in his whole life. But now he almost hoped, it would be Wyndam putting an end to Herrick's plans.

When it was time for a break he sneaked into the nurses supply to dress his fingers again, only to find Lauren sitting on a chair and checking her phone.

She jumped when he entered and stared at him.

„Were you following me?"

„Were you avoiding me?"

„Yes, I was." She sighed. „I just didn't know how to do it. But I have to otherwise the others will never stop pestering me."

„Do what?"

„Never mind. Have you hurt your hand?"

He nodded. „Stupid. Spilled boiling water over my fingers. No big deal."

„Let me have a look."

Carefully she unwrapped his bandage, and he hissed when the skin peeled off and revealed his vulnerable flesh.

„That is quite a burn, Mitchell. You should see a doctor."

„No. It's not that bad."

She frowned but tended to the wound.

He forced himself not to stare at the vein at her neck just below the tips of her luscious brown hair. He had always had a thing for brunettes. Her skin was fair, and he could see her heartbeat throbbing in that vein. He longed to feel that pulsating sensation under his tongue.

Stop that, Mitchell.

He lifted his gaze. She had a stubby nose and full lips, her lashes were long and as she looked up at him now, smiling, her dimples were showing.

„Finished."

„Thank…" He had to clear his throat. „…you." Her scent was in his nose, the tempting scent of warm skin, the promise of blood, the smell of flowery perfume and sharp disinfectant. She smelled gorgeous.

„Would you like to go out with me?" He blurted out.

Her eyes widened. „What?"

„A drink. As a thank you and an apology. A date…?" His voice trailed off. She didn't seem overly enthusiastic about it. Damn. It hadn't been a good idea in the first place.

„Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

„A date? Really?"

He nodded.

She looked at him, blushing slightly. „I would love to. I was wondering how on earth I could get a date with you. All my colleagues were teasing me about that. How I was ogling you and tiptoeing around you and didn't have the nerve to ask you. And now you… Are you sure?"

He chuckled. „Positive. I have thought about asking you out before but I didn't have the nerve."

„You are the most handsome male in the hospital, patients included. Why would you lack the courage?"

„It is complicated. I am not… exactly a … catch."

„You like to wear women's clothes? Expose yourself in front of elderly ladies in the park? Take nude pictures of your girlfriend and put them on the internet?"

„No! Christ, no!"

„Good! Had all that, don't need it again."

„Jesus."

She smiled. „I have two more nightshifts and then two days off. How about you?"

„Same. I pick you up at your place. Eight o'clock on your first day off."

„That sounds perfect."

He moved a little closer until her scent completely filled his head and his heart sprung into life and started beating in expectation. She raised her chin so that his lips would meet hers in a kiss, and it was all warm and sweet. When his lids reluctantly opened again he looked into her bright blue eyes and couldn't help but kiss her again, gently tracing her lips with his tongue asking entrance, playing with hers and teasing until the kiss became more passionate. He felt something awaken but it was not the monster. It was simple longing.

They broke apart, blushing a little, and parted with the promise to meet in the cafeteria later. Mitchell felt ridiculously happy the whole day.

Lauren was sweet. They would have dinner, drinks, hopefully sex. Maybe he would fall in love. He would like that, it had been too long. Living with George and listening to his whining about his lost fiancée made him think a lot about love. Josie had been the last woman he really was in love with. He had dated since then, he had had sex without drawing blood, just plain and sometimes really good sex, but he had not been in love, not like that.

You will not be alone, she had promised him, when he was all teary and clinging onto her like a lifeline, begging her not to leave him, no, Josie, please, don't do this to me, I need you, I love you. You will find love again, my heart. A love far bigger than this. Trust me.

He would have to tell Lauren what he was. But not at once. Have a nice evening first, make love to her first. Be human first, then tell her about the monster.

He went home, sunglasses sitting in his hair, a take-away coffee in his hand, and he still felt good. Warm. Alive. Funny really, how blood and love had a similar effect. Only one was far easier to get than the other.

He pushed open the door of the pink house, humming a Doors song, when his eyes fell on George standing in the hall, his arms folded, his expression dark.

„Mitchell." He positively growled.

„Yeah?"

„That is so not funny. I am sick of your sick jokes!"

„What?"

„The chicken! You don't do something like this to my chicken. I need a chicken on the full moon to lay a trace, so that I won't rush off and kill something. Or someone. Do you understand that?"

„Of course I do, George. It never touched your bloody chicken. What is the matter with you?"

„The matter?" George's voice was painfully shrill. He grabbed Mitchell's sleeve and dragged him into the kitchen.

The chicken was nailed against the cupboard like a fat and headless Jesus.

„Bloody hell." Mitchell nearly dropped his coffee. „I didn't do that. How could you ever think I would do anything like that?"

„I… I don't know. Sorry." George looked at him with panic rising in his eyes. „Who did that? Do you think the neighbours are trying to scare us off? Do you think someone knows what we are?"

„I don't think so. They would have tried to kill us and not the chicken."

„But… who?"

„Haven't the faintest."

„What was that?" George spun around. „Did you hear that?"

„Someone is in the house!"

He raced out of the kitchen, just to stop dead in his tracks.

„Go away" was written on the wall.

„Oh my God!" George paled. „Is that blood?"

„That is paint. And still fresh." Mitchell cast his friend a look. „Blood! Seriously, George! Why would anyone write anything in blood, it's totally impractical. Not to mention a waste."

„Sorry."

„Upstairs." Mitchell breathed. „They are upstairs. Go!" He shoved a reluctant George towards the stairs.

„Why should I go first?"

„Because I have hurt myself already today, I don't need another injury. You are more impressive than me anyway. You are stocky!"

„Stocky? I am not stocky!"

„Yes, you are. You are like those people in the comics, when a safe falls down and…"

George harrumphed and grabbed a cricket bat. Arming himself with an umbrella (an umbrella, idiot, who was he going to scare off with an umbrella other than a rain cloud), Mitchell followed in his wake. George burst into the room the noise had been coming from and stopped dead. A young woman was sitting in the lone armchair. She didn't look too alarmed as the two of them were crashing into the room, she inspected her fingernails and sighed.

„Who are you? What are doing in our house? What have you done to my chicken?"

The woman turned to look at someone behind her and when she found the room empty, she looked back at George. Her brown eyes widened.

„You can see me? You can actually see me?"

„Yes, of course I can see you! Who are you?"

She waved her arms. „Can you see me doing this?"

George readied his cricket bat in defence. „Stop that!"

„George." Mitchell felt a tingling sensation, like electricity, making his hairs stand on end.

„What are you doing in our house?"

„Your house?" The woman exclaimed indignantly. „That is my house, and you must leave!"

„George."

„Leave? Are you out of your mind? I signed a contract. I payed a deposit. You leave or I will call the police!"

„George. It is her house."

„What do you mean, it is her house?"

„She is a ghost."

„So what?" The woman glared at him. „You have a problem with that?"

„Yes, I do." George said, faintly.

„No, I don't."

How could he? She was young and lovely and beautiful, with skin the colour of coffee latte and eyes deep and dark, curls were dancing around her delicate face now as she shook her head. She was one of the most lively persons he had seen – apart from the fact that she was dead.

„How can you see me? Nobody has ever been able to see me before."

He took a step forward and carefully extended his hand to shake hers. He had seen ghosts who were like mist and ghosts who were solid enough to touch but she looked like an actual woman hadn't it been for the faint glow around her and the buzz of electricity he felt emanating from her. He wondered what it would do to him but held out his hand nevertheless.

Reluctantly she took it, and he was surprised to feel her cold skin and the solid grip of her fingers and a mild sensation at her touch that was not unpleasant at all.

Her eyes widened. „I can touch you. I felt your touch!"

He grinned. „I am Mitchell, that is George."

„Um. Nice to meet you?"

„Nice to meet you too. What's your name?"

„Annie." She tilted her head, and his grin widened. She was cute.

„You are not afraid of me. And you are not… human. What are you?"

„Vampire. George here is a werewolf. That's why we can see you."

„You are a vampire?" She stared at him, clearly wondering wether he was making fun of her. She made a face, baring her teeth. „Like that? Like count Dracula?"

„Err. Something like that."

„And you are a werewolf? Really?"

George sighed. „Yes. Really. What now? Do you leave or what?"

„No!" Mitchell and Annie said unisono.

„It is her house. She can't leave. It is what keeps her here, what ties her to the world of the living. She has a bond with the house. She died here."

„What? Someone died in our house?"

„I died in my house!"

„You didn't know?"

„You did? You never said anything!"

„Where do think did the cracked tile comes from?"

„Ugh." Gorge made a face.

„I thought you knew. Everybody knows! People are asking me on he street about it!"

„The neighbours are talking to you?"

„Of course they are! We are talking, that's what neighbours do. I invited them for a housewarming next Saturday!"

„You did what?"

„Hello? Am I invisible again? Could you talk to me? And what do you mean, you invited the neighbours?"

„It is what one does, Annie, being new in the neighbourhood."

„I know… what was your name again?"

„Mitchell."

„Mitchell. I know that, I wanted to invite them over, as soon as Owen and me moved here, but I died before I could do it."

„But this is great! It will be your housewarming party, too!"

„I wanted to do this with Owen!"

„Who is Owen? George rolled his eyes.

„My fiancé." She sniffed.

„Our landlord."

„You have met him? How was he faring? Oh, my poor darling! I bet he was heartbroken! We wanted to marry, have a family." The tears were flowing for real now, and George shifted uncomfortably.

„How about a cup of tea?" He asked, and Annie turned, her dark eyes sparkling.

„I am a ghost! I cannot drink tea!"

With that, she vanished.

„Sorry." George muttered.

„Really!" Mitchell huffed. „You should be more sensitive!"

„I didn't know that! How on earth was I supposed to know?"

„Calm down. Have a tea and get used to the idea of a ghost living in our house."

„No way!"

Mitchell smiled when they entered the kitchen.

„She's here."

„Yes." Annie said, handing two steaming mugs over. „Of corse I am here. I cannot leave the house. And it is my kitchen, after all. I cannot drink tea, but I like making it. So enjoy."

He took a sip. „Wow. This is good."

„Thank you." She smiled very girlish, and he felt his grin widen.

„So. What now?" George asked.

„We are drinking tea like proper house mates and get to know each other."

„No!" George said aghast. „We are not house mates!"

„Yes, we are. She cannot go anywhere else, she will probably just fade. Besides, it will do us good living with a lovely woman."

„She crucified my chicken!"

„Sorry about that." She murmured. „I put it back in the fridge."

„See? All is well, no harm done!" Mitchell grinned and turned to a still guilty looking Annie. „How long did you live here before… you know. How did that happen anyway?"

„We just moved in. I must have tripped in the dark and fell down the stairs. I can't really remember. I hit my head very bad, after all." She pursed her lips. „I have been here since then. Nobody could see me. It was horrible, I was so alone all the time."

„No longer." Mitchell put a reassuring hand on her forearm, and felt the tickling sensation again.

She stared at her arm. „It is so strange that you can actually touch me. It tickles."

„Yeah! It does! I didn't know it could feel that way."

„Have you met other ghosts? Actually touched them?"

„Mostly there is nothing to touch, most of them are not solid like you."

„I am solid!" She bumped up and down in her chair, and George touched his forehand.

„I am getting a headache."

„What is it with you?" Annie asked. „Is it your time of the month or what?"

Mitchell chuckled. „Actually, it is. There is a full moon in three days." Oh, damn. Three days. He had forgotten about George when he asked Lauren out. „Fuck, man. I have a thing!"

George stared. „You. Have. A. Thing?"

„Sorry, mate! I forgot. But I take you to the woods, I promise. And I will try to pick you up in the morning."

„What do you mean you will try?"

„Um. I don't know how long that thing will take, so… I am not sure I will make it in time."

„Don't bother. I've handled this on my own before."

„I know. But that's the thing about having friends. You don't have to do things like that on your own. Forget about what I said. I will be there. I promise."

George looked at him, his eyes behind his glasses suspiciously moist. They embraced, and Annie clapped her hands in delight.

Mitchell put on his Crocks and left the changing room only to be grabbed and dragged into a dim lit corner. An arm was slung round his neck and lips were pressed on his in a passionate kiss.

„Lauren!" He tried to catch his breath. The girl was a hell of a kisser. If that was any indication of more hidden talents, he was in for a treat tomorrow.

„Just something to make your shift more agreeable."

„If it gets any more agreeable I won't be able to work at all."

She giggled and pressed her lips onto his again.

„See you later, tiger."

„Yeah."

„Oh. And, Mitchell, let doctor Simmons look at your hand, please. It doesn't heal properly, I am worried."

„It is fine, really. I don't need that prick."

„It is not fine. At least let me dress it."

„Okay. See you in the supply room at midnight then? Alone?"

She grinned and waved him goodbye.